


our lives are filled with lies, but trust in me

by marvelleous



Series: i'll follow you, to the ends of the earth [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Framework, Phil is an awful artist, post 4x19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-25 04:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10756632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelleous/pseuds/marvelleous
Summary: Phil needs to convince Melinda to believe him, to trust him, and there's really only one way to do that.“That, looks nothing like me.”His mouth falls open, and he huffs in offense.“I know I'm not the greatest artist, but that is definitely you. Look, she's got eyes and the hair-”





	1. Chapter 1

When Melinda tells the oddly endearing history teacher turned SHIELD agent that he has to “show not tell”, she does not anticipate that he’ll respond with “I can work with that”. Furthermore, she is even more surprised and a little annoyed when his eyes light up and he tells her to come with him.

They definitely do not have time for this, but she reluctantly follows him through the unfamiliar hallways anyway, almost crashing into his back when he stops abruptly in front of an unmarked door.  
  
She's a little on edge, as to be expected, especially after all the "truths" he'd tried to make her wake up to, and frowns suspiciously when he pushes the door open to reveal a small bedroom.  
  
"Wh-?"  
  
She barely has time to get a word out before he has a hand on her back - bold move for a history teacher - and is pushing her into the room, bolting the door closed behind him. If it were anyone else who made such sudden contact with her, she would have them flat on the ground crying out in pain, but the thought of Phil Coulson being hurt doesn't sit well with her.  
  
She can't explain it.  
  
"Just... Wait here. I need to show you something," he tells her, before turning his back and moving over to the corner of the room and bending down to rummage through a bag.  
  
Melinda stills, staying in her position by the door, tense and unable to relax. She doesn't move for the entire time it takes him to locate whatever it is he wants her to see, and he frowns when he turns back and sees her standing rigidly, unmoving.  
  
And then he smiles, sitting down on the small single bed that occupies most of the room, and patting the spot beside him.  
  
She eyes him warily, but moves to join him anyway. The faster this is over and done with, the sooner she can go back to helping people, to easing her conscience for the all the horrible things she did in the past.  
  
"For so long I've been getting these flashes of memories that don't quite make sense," he begins, pulling the band that held his folder together off. As he opens it, he shifts closer to her, as she moves closer to look, and they both freeze when their knees brush.  
  
Melinda's first instinct in any other situation would be to pull away, but she finds herself unable to move. Phil barely stops himself from apologising for their accidental touch; he realises it's no big deal but this is a hard as nails hydra agent he's dealing with.  
  
"I keep track of them in here," he explains to her, sliding the folder so it sits in both their laps, so she can inspect the carefully collected evidence he'd spent the past who knows how long collecting.  
  
Phil tries to control his breathing as Melinda begins to look through his photos, files, newspaper clippings and nonsensical doodles and notes he'd taken while sitting in near darkness, mulling over his life and the hold hydra had over them.  
  
He likes to think that he's good at reading people's expressions, but she remains stoic, not showing any visible reactions. She has too much control in this moment, and he has a feeling it's on purpose. Melinda may not completely believe him yet, but she's hiding her true reaction, and it has to mean something.  
  
Or maybe she's too polite to tell him he's nuts, after seeing "It's a magical place" written over and over and over again, but that can't be the case. She doesn't seem like one to hold back from sharing her opinion - and she had insinuated he might be insane earlier.  
  
"This only shows me that you're a sentimentalist collecting unrelated things," she comments, after she's flipped through what is possibly the twentieth page with his messy text scrawled across it.  
  
When she tries to push the folder back over to him, he stops her with his hands and this time, she does tense up, a deep frown developing on her face.  
  
"Wait," he tells her, no, begs her, and she doesn't move as he moves the many pages over to reveal the contents right at the back of the file.  
  
There's a page from a calendar at the back, a picture of a red car next to the month of May.  
  
"I keep getting flashes of this car - Daisy called it Lola, said I have one in the real world. And look, it's May."  
  
She gives him a look that tells him that she thinks he's just pulling at straws at this point and he sighs.  
  
"I saw a woman, her face was never really clear to me, but I tried to make it clearer by putting pen to paper."  
  
It's a last ditch effort as he moves the calendar aside to reveal his doodles of the woman haunting his dreams.  
  
"And now I know. It's you."

He doesn't know what response he actually expects from her - he knows what he wants to happen; that they’ll look into each other's eyes and she’ll suddenly understand and believe him.

Instead she laughs.

He’d be more offended if the sound didn't warm his heart.

“That, looks nothing like me.”

His mouth falls open, and he huffs in offense.

“I know I'm not the greatest artist, but that is _definitely_ you. Look, she's got eyes and the hair-”

Melinda cuts him off before he can continue.

“Very astute. Eyes and hair, yes I have those too. Look Phil, you have to stop wasting time chasing this nonsense; you've shown me nothing so far that can prove what you're claiming.”

She closes the folder and shoves it back to him, shaking her head with a sigh that seemed to speak of disappointment. It isn't that she doesn't want to believe him, he just needs to show her something concrete.

There's barely five feet between them and the door and in the two seconds it takes for Melinda to get up and move to leave, Phil has an insane idea. He ditches the folder on the bed and lunges towards her, knowing that this will either work or she’ll kill him. If she doesn't believe he might die either way, so it's a risk he's willing to take.

He shoves her hard up against the door, taking a moment to marvel at the mix of shock, confusion and quite possibly murderous anger in her eyes before he leans down to kiss her.

It takes all of a second for her to reciprocate.

Phil’s primary concern should be to pull back and see if she believes him now, believes that there is an explanation for this strange attraction between them that has been drawing them together since they first laid eyes on one another, but he doesn't think he wants to.

She tastes like everything good in the world, and it feels like finally experiencing the warm summer sun after a thousand years of cold harsh winters.

Eventually, she places her palms against his chest and he takes it as a sign to pull back.

Melinda looks both amused and slightly confused, and he rests his forehead against hers, pulling her into his arms for no other reason than the comfort he feels from having her near.

“You kissed me,” she mumbles against his shoulder and he grins.

“You kissed me back,” he doesn't hesitate to point out, feeling his heart rate increase as she moves her arms to loop around his neck, leaning back to look up at him.

“I'm still not sure I believe your crazy train theory.”

She’s smiling and it tells him otherwise.

“Damn. And here I was hoping to wake you up with the power of true love’s kiss.”

Her expression softens at his words, and she’s looking at him in a way that tells him she wants nothing more than to trust him.

“I'm willing to let you convince me,” she whispers, tilting her head up and leaning in towards him. He leans down without hesitation and as their lips meet once more, he thinks that he can definitely work with this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My peeps wanted a continuation to this, so instead I wrote an alternative version because I love to mess with them :)

In the time that Melinda May has known Phil Coulson, which isn't very long at all, she’s come to learn three important things about him.  
  
He's hopeful. He thinks that they can win this war against Hydra and she knows that millions will probably die because of it.  
  
He's brave. She knows that he's not really an agent, just a simple history teacher, sees that he's not fit for being out in the field; not without risking his life.  
  
He's also a bit of an idiot. A potentially insane man who entertains the notion that they're all being kept inside a virtual prison and that they're finally fighting back against Hydra as a means to escape this so called reality.  
  
That and the fact he had revealed to her how he made his own soap to prevent himself from being brainwashed.  
  
Phil Coulson is either a madman or just insane enough to be telling the truth. Either way, she has a feeling she'll find out soon enough.  


* * *

  
  
Melinda stands by her opinions about SHIELD's new temporary leader when he gets himself into danger by pretty much running in there head first with "a solid plan". Sighing, she readies her gun and follows him, cursing his recklessness in her mind.  
  
It's too quiet; It all feels wrong and that's how she knows that they're probably in for trouble. She senses the the looming attack even before the first sounds of gunshots ring out and she ducks around the corner for cover.  
  
There'll be a fight going down soon enough and she’ll be damned if she lets Coulson get himself killed.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for saving my ass back there.”

Melinda looks up as Phil finally speaks, having been silent since he caught a bullet in the arm and she’d had take out the people shooting at them before hauling him back to safety.

“You're welcome,” she tells him. She doesn't tell him that she's glad he isn't dead, or that she would have saved him no matter what.

That she's beginning to see that his ramblings may not be so crazy after all. Skye, no, Daisy, believes them and she trusts the girl with her life, having known her for so long. Her friend, Jemma Simmons, believes it too.

Somehow, Melinda doesn't think that they're all in this crazy cult where they fake the universe is a lie. There must be a truth behind what they're saying, and as she grows to know Phil Coulson more, feeling something that she can't explain drawing her towards him, she's inclined to believe it too.

They lapse into silence once more, as she cleans up his wound as best as she can. He puts on a brave face, doesn't even wince when she begins stitching him up, having only applied sparing amounts of local anaest. They're running out of supplies with the amount of people seeking help from them growing with each passing hour, and they have to do what they can to help everyone.

She doesn't bandage him up when she's done, wrap his arm up tightly like she wants to. The best she can give him is a large bandage and a gentle squeeze on his shoulder.

“Try not to move around too much and bust open your stitches,” she instructs him, looking away to pack up the medical supplies so she can dispose of the used ones and return the rest to the lab. Truth be told the only reason she had offered to patch him up in the comfort of his room was because she had hoped he would be willing to speak.

The more she learnt about him, about “reality”, the more she wanted to know.

She takes his silence as a sign that the conversation will not be had, at least not today, and so she moves to leave the room once she has her things in order.

“Wait.”

Melinda pauses by the door when she hears Phil’s voice call out to her. Closing her eyes just for a moment, and taking a deep breath, she sets down the items she is carrying and turns to face him once more, pulling her arms across her chest and giving him her attention.

“What?”

“Look, I know you probably think I'm a little bit crazy,” he begins and she scoffs, giving him a pointed look.

“Just a little bit crazy?”

She cracks a smile to let him know that she's joking and he sighs before continuing.

“Yes I know I make my own soap, but after today, please tell me you're at least considering the possibility that this world isn't real.”

Phil draws in a breath and stills as Melinda moves silently to sit down beside him, only turning towards her once she's settled into position.

“I won't lie and tell you that I don't think this idea of yours is insane, but, I can't say for sure either that what you're telling me is nonsense.”

He nods, because this is at least a start.

“I want to tell you more about it, but I can't remember, I don't know myself. We just have to get out of here, it's all I know. That if we die here, we’ll die in the real world too.”

It's a heavy topic to begin with, and he sees the fear, confusion and distress in her eyes even before she frowns and shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts.

“I know it's a lot to take in-” he starts, before she cuts him off with a harsh glare.

“We? What do you mean by we?”

“Honestly I thought you'd be more concerned with the whole dying part.”

She gives him a look that effectively has him shutting up and only slightly fearing for his own life.

“Phil.”

The way she says his name is just too eerily familiar, even if he's convinced that they know each other in another a lifetime.

“Melinda,” he responds, just because he wants to know if she feels it too, the sense that something _is_ truly wrong here, that this connection between them doesn't stem from fate but rather their minds trying to tell them they are forgetting something.

That they are forgetting each other.

“Explain.”

And so he does.

Every little detail about what he can remember, what Daisy Johnson and Jemma Simmons have spoken to him about, how they were mourning the loss of Jeffrey Mace not only in this world, but the real world.

Phil doesn't expect her anger.

“You're saying that the rest of the people around us don't matter, and that you risked your life today when someone else who wouldn't be affected could do the same instead?”

She's furious.

He hadn't anticipated that she would fixate on that of all things.

And he definitely does not see her next move coming. One moment she's sitting motionless beside him and the next her hand is shooting out and grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him towards her. He doesn't even have the chance to blink before she's kissing him.

There is nothing gentle about it.

The rational part of his mind tells him to pull away, that they shouldn't be doing this, but she's overwhelming his senses, her lips soft against his and he can't not kiss her back.

It's her that pulls away, a small smile on her face as she whispers an admission to him.

“I don't want to see you get hurt.”

He wants to tell her that he feels the same way, that he wants nothing more than for all of them to escape this place, to be safe, but all he feels in this moment is confusion. His rash decisions usually lead to disaster, and this time, it’s no different.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her.

And then he flees from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not that mean ;)

Thirty seconds after his dramatic escape, Phil is tearing down the hallway like a crazy person, trying to search for the one person (well, two people really) that can give him answers to the questions, worries and doubts plaguing his mind, feeding off his insecurities like a pack of starving dogs.

Agents and civilians alike turn their heads to stare at him as he rushes by, and he realises how he must look to them, but reminds himself that they’re not real, and he needs to locate the ones that are to help straighten things out.

He must be incredibly lucky today, because he finds just the person he is looking for when he rounds the corner. To be fair, found isn’t the most accurate description - he actually nearly bowls her over.

“Coulson!”

Daisy has a tight grip on his forearm, confusion and concern mingling in her features as she helps steady him.

“We need to talk,” he manages to get out, gasping in an effort to catch his breath. As Daisy leads him away so they can speak in private, Phil muses that he’s either not as fit as he thinks himself to be, or that Melinda May had quite literally taken his breath away.

 

* * *

 

“So, what’s up?”

Phil looks up as Daisy slides a mug of coffee in front of him, wrapping his shaky fingers around the heated porcelain, trying to absorb as much of the warmth as he possibly can. It was one of those things that should have tipped him off earlier; this world always felt cold. It wasn’t a physical sense; a lowered temperature, but rather a constant overhanging chill in the back of their minds, and pit of their stomachs.

“I need you to tell me about the real world.”

Daisy sighs, grabbing the closest chair and dragging it over so she can sit down beside him.

“Coulson. The important thing right now is to get out of here. You’ll remember everything you need to when we wake up. I promise.”

Phil knows that logically, Daisy is trying to comfort him without really revealing too much, and he gets it, but his desperation, this intense desire to always seek the truth, is constantly at the front of his mind. He understands that there is probably too much for her to explain to him, that there is likely quite a bit that she won’t be able to, but even so, there is one thing he needs to know.

“Just tell me this…” he says softly, turning his head so that they’re making eye contact. He needs for her to see just how much he has to know this, how important it is to him.

“Who is Melinda May?”

Daisy opens her mouth to speak, but he stops her as he continues, trying to elaborate on what exactly it is that he wants her to tell him.

“Who is she to me?”

They fall into an uncomfortable silence and Phil finds himself staring down at the mug in his hands, watching the steam swirl around, a contrast to the motionless murky brown liquid beneath it. He brings it to his lips and takes a sip, musing about how wrong it all tastes. Food always tasted wrong, things always smelt wrong. Everything about this world was so, so wrong, and it becomes more and more apparent to him as he spends time in the company of these people, these real people.

“Look Coulson, I want to tell you… I really do. But there’s no easy way to say this. It’s a story I don’t know most of, and I know you really want me to give you answers, but if we don’t leave here, we’ll all die.”

Phil isn’t sure he’s ever resorted to begging his entire life, but everything his clouding his judgement in this moment, and he reaches out to grab Daisy’s hand, trying to convey to her the seriousness of his request.

“Please. I have to know. Just this one thing. Please.”

She looks down to where his hand is gripping her wrist, and back to his face, frowning before speaking, just a single word, a question.

“Why?”

Maybe it isn’t appropriate to kiss and tell, but she seems like the kind of person who appreciates honesty, and he hopes this will convince her to reveal something, anything.

“We kissed.”

There’s a long, awkward pause where neither of them move, but then Daisy rips her hand from his grasp, covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle a gasp. It doesn’t work, and it certainly doesn’t do anything to soothe his fears.

“Wait are you serious?” she asks him, and she’s actually laughing and he can’t tell whether it’s because she thinks the whole thing is actually humorous or there is another, less hurtful explanation.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing but that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

Wait. What?

Phil scratches the back of his neck, tilting his head to the side. He’s beyond confused; he cannot come up with a reasonable explanation for Daisy’s reaction, and he’s definitely more scared now to hear the truth.

“Look Coulson. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you who May is to you, because that’s between you and her, and quite frankly, I’m not sure I can describe it. But I can tell you who you both are to me. I might have joked around in the early days, called you guys “Mom and Dad", but the truth is, it’s how I think of you both now. I told you before that you’re the person that I go to when I’m scared, that you’re the closest thing I have to family. I meant that. And it’s the same with May. You’ve both protected me since the beginning, even when I made stupid decisions, even when I betrayed you guys.”

Phil feels a warmth in him, so similar yet different to what he’d felt when he was with Melinda, a sense that someone cared for him. That he meant something to somebody. He didn’t have a family here in this world, and he may not have a nice house, a wife and two and a half kids in reality, but he has something. Something almost better.

“My parents, my real parents, they weren’t the best. They loved me in their own way, but you know how things go. My mom tried to kill me, but then my dad killed her and you let me have his memories wiped and I drop in on him once in awhile but he doesn’t remember me. So you and May, you’re all I have. And you have each other too.”

He really hopes all of this is true.

“I mean I always thought there was something there, you two give each other these looks sometimes and I feel like I should leave the room. But you know there was Dr. Ex-husband and scary dragon lady but they're both dead so seriously, what are you guys waiting for? Elena barely knows you both and she thought you were together.”

Phil thinks that Daisy is still talking, but he can't be sure because those are the last words he hears before he's slipping off his chair and rushing off again.

He should have known.

Something that felt so good, felt so right, could never be wrong.


End file.
